Lessons on God's Goodness... From a Beagle

I've been wanting to write about God's goodness and what I've learned about it. I've struggled to capture my thoughts in a concise, blog-appropriate way. Last night God gave me a very applicable illustration of His goodness and how we tend to understand it.

We have a beagle. His name is Rusty. I cannot express how thankful I am for him. He has brought laughter when we couldn't imagine laughing. He has snuggled close when no one else was within arm's reach. He has been someone we had to get out of ourselves to care for, when we didn't feel very much like caring for anything. He is such a gift.

Last night Rusty and I went to the dog park. He played and played, jumping and chasing the other dogs. When we got home I noticed him licking his paw for quite a while. As I looked at it, I saw his wound.

Now, I should first tell you that his wound is likely my fault. And I feel terrible about it. Rusty has long toenails and I haven't cut them in a while.

One of his toenails on his front paw was bleeding. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but I think his long toenail must have gotten caught on something and caused it to split or come up out of the nail bed a little bit.

My heart broke for our little dog, who so faithfully loves us. He was hurting and all I wanted to do was to fix it and comfort him through it.

So, first of all I didn't want it to get infected, so I thought I should find a way to clean it up a little bit. I filled a basin with some warm soapy water and sat down by Rusty, giving him time to trust what I was doing, hoping that he would be able to know that I didn't want to hurt him more, but that I was trying to help him. After a few minutes, he let me wrap a warm cloth around his wounded paw and clean up the bleeding. But as I would get close to the wound, he would pull his paw away. I cleaned it as well as I could and tried to help the bleeding stop by dabbing some cornstarch onto his nail.

When Jay got home I told him about our poor beagle. We both knew we were going to have to clip Rusty's nail so that it wouldn't snag on anything or put more pressure on the nail bed where it was pulled. Before we even touched Rusty's nails with the clipper, he knew what was coming and was not happy about it. He struggled to run away, thinking that what we were doing would hurt him and he wanted no part of it. Between the two of us we held Rusty tight and clipped the nail while he howled and cried and tried to claw his way out of the painful situation. After it was all over, he snuggled up to us and allowed us to wrap a sock around his paw, keeping him from licking it.

Are the spiritual applications of this obvious, or am I making it up?

Rusty had to allow us to do what we knew was going to be best for him, to prevent more harm. He simply had to trust, even though he wouldn't understand. We tried to communicate our care and concern, but as smart as Rusty is, he doesn't understand a lot of conversational English. He had to trust that what we were doing was good. That we love him and want what is best for him.

We knew that he wasn't going to understand exactly what our plans were or the rationale behind them. But we knew that what we were doing was good for him. It was goodness.

Like Rusty's limited English comprehension, I have limited understanding of God. He has revealed Himself through His Word and through His Son and I know His love for me. But I am not God. I know that I don't fully know His love for me and I cannot fully understand the things of God until I am in Heaven.

"Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known." 1 Corinthians 13:12

There are things in this life that hurt badly. Losing a child is only one of the thousands of deeply painful things that we as humans will go through in our lifetimes on earth. Our perception of pain does not define His goodness.

Our perception of pain does not define His goodness.

I have questioned God's goodness in losing Garren. I've questioned how something so painful could be good. I don't know the answer yet. And I can say that I am content knowing that I might never fully know the answer this side of Heaven.

Like Rusty, I simply have to rest and trust when God holds me tight and says, "Andrea, this is going to hurt and you're not going to understand why I'm doing what I'm doing, but just trust me. You know that I love you. I have cared for you and provided for you and sacrificed my Son for you. I know this is painful, and it breaks my heart that you are hurting, but just trust me. This is goodness. I am always good. Someday I'll allow you to fully see that."

I can stop struggling. I can stop trying to jump out of God's tight grip while he clips away what must be clipped away. And I can rest, knowing that He knows what He is doing. Knowing that He desperately loves me and wouldn't waste the sacrifice of His Son to bring me anything BUT goodness.

These painful things in life must just be our perception. We see such a small picture of eternity. God sees it all and has it all planned out. I'm so foolish to think that because I don't define something as good, that it must not be.

Our perception of pain, does not define His goodness.

God is infinitely greater than that.

"'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,' declares the Lord. 'As the Heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.'" Isaiah 55:8-9

God knows far better what is best for me. Unlike me neglecting to clip Rusty's nails to prevent further injuries, God brings us through what we feel are painful situations and refines us, shapes us, grows us and is eternally glorified. And there is eternal glory that we receive in it as well.

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

I know these painful things don't feel light or momentary. Losing a loved one, a precious child does not feel "light." Seeing people struggle with devastating illnesses does not feel "light." Hearing about violence and abuse does not feel "light." Nor do these things feel "momentary." I will live out the rest of my days without Garren here. There will always be pain in that. There will always be the missing. That doesn't feel "momentary."

But in the span of eternity, knowing the endless days that I will spend in heaven and the timelessness of God - this is momentary. Because I am locked into God's grip and nothing can take me from him, every trouble or hardship or pain that I face in this life will be light compared to being separated eternally from Him.

Some have questioned whether or not God took Garren from us. Some say that God is our comforter, our healer and that because of sin in the world, there is death. That is true. There is death because God designed it as the consequence for sin. But God decided when Garren's heart would begin to beat and He decided when his heart would cease to beat. I can't decide to define God by what I perceive to be painful or what I would accept as "goodness."

I can believe who He says He is and trust Him. Trusting that I will not know all of His ways in this lifetime. Trusting that He loves me and will do what is best for me, even and especially when I don't understand it.

I find comfort in answers, in resolution. And I find comfort in this: I don't know the answer, but God does. So I'll choose to trust Him.

Lord, you are far greater than I can ever imagine. You are the creator, the sustainer over all of this world. You have chosen to reveal your heart and your love to us, by giving us your Word, your Son Jesus, and your Spirit to dwell within us. What incredible gifts! I don't deserve to know you or to be known by you. Thank you for the love you have for me, this unconditional love. Thank you that despite my anger and my questioning and my frustration and my struggle to trust you, yet you love me. Yet you show me your love in thousands of different ways. You show me your goodness in thousands of different ways. O Lord, thank you. Thank you for gifts like Rusty, who not only brings so much joy, but also brings spiritual lessons. You've used a beagle to teach me about you. You are so good! Thank you that these troubles are light and momentary in the span of eternity. Thank you that we can look with eager anticipation toward heaven where this "pain" will be no more. How we long for Christ's return! Lord, teach me to trust you. Teach me to listen for your voice, telling me you love me and to simply rest in the knowledge of that indescribable love. Teach me to see your goodness as you define it, not as I define it. Please continue to reveal more and more of yourself, that I may know you more and more. And Lord, would you please say hi to Garren for me? Please tell him I love him and miss him. Thanks!
Love,
Andrea